


A Chance to Heal

by satalderihannsu



Category: Black Jack (Anime & Manga), Young Black Jack - All Media Types
Genre: Dr. Kiriko healing someone, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rivals, can't call this love, even though it's totally love, friends - Freeform, life-threatening injury, pay the piper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satalderihannsu/pseuds/satalderihannsu
Summary: Black Jack gets stiffed by some unethical customers and comes down with a bad case of shot-in-body-by-cretins. Dr. Kiriko gets his coffee interrupted. Includes kindness, musings on What is Love ((baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no mo')), and a rare moment when Kiriko doesn't take a life.





	A Chance to Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DVDemoni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DVDemoni/gifts).



Kiriko was enjoying his cup of terrible coffee. It was terrible, one of the worst he’d had yet. He rather thought that men like him deserved bad coffee, and it was one of the way in which he grounded himself in reality again after a period of… un-reality. Bad coffee let things be raw and unpleasant, exactly as reality was, and without a veneer of civility or romanticism. And yet… a bad cup of coffee was rarely, if ever prepared with spite. Some of the best coffees in the world were made by angry, underpaid baristas who wished nothing more than outright murder upon their customers. But a bad cup of coffee, a truly bad cup, was inevitably made by a kind, if tired, member of the working class. While Kiriko wasn’t so unwise as to place an incorrect amount of virtue in the hands of blue collar Americana, he was less automatically inclined to hate them outright.

It was late spring, and the diner was a refuge from the endless, murderous pollen. However, this diner had sprung up at the edge of downtown. This was the part of the city where the skyscrapers gave way suddenly to trees, and more yellow nightmare. Kiriko felt his eyes half-swollen with allergen. But he could hear the bell of the door fair explode when a customer slammed it open. The footsteps were staggering, and then--

"Watch where you're…! --you?" Kiriko stared at the man clad in black and a patently ridiculous hat who had slammed into his table and spilled his coffee.

Black Jack.

The unwelcome guest slide awkwardly into the booth and sat at his table. "Why hello,” said Kiriko humorlessly. “Please. Have a seat." He gestured as though the other weren't already in the chair.

Black Jack blinked a little. “Just.. need phone. Cab.” He smothered a cough struggling to get out of his throat. Perhaps Pinoko might be right; maybe he should start carrying one of those damn cell phones. He looked up, seemingly noticing that he was not seated at an unoccupied table for the first time "Why is it always… you…?” he grunted. But it was better to sit with someone who obviously knew him, than alone. He hurriedly removed his hat. “Your… scarf.” He wheezed, but the command was there.

Kiriko blinked.

“ _ Scarf _ .”

Kiriko touched his own yellow pashmina, and when Black Jack gave a curt nod, Kiriko unwound it from around his neck and handed it over. Black Jack instantly wrapped it around his head.

“What are you doing?” Kiriko laughed a little. Black Jack smiled, though it was clear even that was difficult.

A series of loud, running footsteps ran beside the building. The sounds of shouting, and the door blew open one more time. Kiriko looked to the new customer. Ah, yes, of course. It seemed only natural that Black Jack was being pursued by rough-looking types. Again. The goon scanned the shocked customers, and Kiriko curled a lip at him. Apparently, his short companion with a yellow headscarf was just as uninteresting as the scant few other customers, and he rejoined his fellows in a loud, weapon-toting manhunt.

Kiriko picked up his cup and spoke into the black acid coffee. "I see you've been making friends again." He eyed the other with a half-grin, but it faded as he noted the pain on Black Jack's face. Kiriko knew intimately what pain looked like, and the tension, the slight sweat, the pupils narrow with stress: "Dr. Black Jack?" he inquired softly.

"What?" The other swallowed a little hard as he unwound the scarf with some effort.

“I’m guessing you didn’t get away  _ scott _ free?”

Black Jack reached under his coat and pressed two fingers against a divot in his chest. His fingers came away very wet, and red. The sharp feeling didn’t even feel like pain anymore. But he was so tired….

_ Wake up. Now is not the time for grogginess _ . Black Jack looked around, the waitstaff all busy at the moment, no possibility of a phone to use yet. He tongued inside his cheeks. His mouth was dry.

Kiriko could see that he was clearly in a terribly shape. "I'm having coffee and an English muffin. You haven't ordered anything yet. Fruit salad?" He searched Black Jack’s features for signs, and caught the hand in the jacket, pressing hard. And there: a hole in his coat, round and ragged. That narrowed things down a bit.

The server had turned from another table. Black Jack ignored Kiriko. He planned to stand up and request to use the phone now. He needed to get back to his hotel. Get back to a lockable space where he could take care of this problem in his chest. "I won't be staying," he choked out. He stood. Or he started to stand. The world shifted unfairly beneath his feet and he fell with phenomenal grace. He twisted in air and landed again at the table, this time against Kiriko's shoulder. His hands fell helplessly to his lap. The fingers caught at the other man's arm, leaving trails of bright blood. He slumped against the Kiriko. "Pardon me," he whispered automatically. He attempted to stand again, but ended up leaning his head against the other's shoulder.

Kiriko pressed the backs of his dry, slender fingers to Black Jack’s forehead. Black Jack thought them wonderfully cool, trailing over his skin, and brushing his unruly white hair aside.

The moan the younger man made was bordering on indecent. Kiriko glanced awkwardly up at the rest of the restaurant to find the many stares glaring holes in him.It certainly didn't help that Black Jack from this angle was youthful, wan, and handsome. Kiriko knew his appearance well enough to realize how bad this looked.

Black Jack spoke softly (he didn’t mean to, there simply seemed to be no other setting for his voice at the moment): "I dressed it as best I could under the circumstances... but it's come... come undone." He Doctor Death.  _ Stay together _ .  _ Just ask him for help. Help is better than dying _ . He panted, his breath feeling too hot against his own lips.  _ Help better... than dying...  _ "Help..." He could feel himself slipping slowly against Kiriko's shoulder. Those cool fingers were against his skin again, stroking through his hair, gentle and familiar.

Kiriko could see the blood draining from his rival’s face, saw the blood on his fingers. This was very bad. And then that plea of "Help," so weak and pathetic! How far gone was he even? Could he survive? Well, he supposed he wasn't yet to the brain damage point. "I'll need to take you somewhere other than a diner. You can't stand. And all I have is a motorcycle."

Black Jack’s head fell forward. He’d meant it to be a nod. "I can make it to the motorcycle.” Truly, he doubted it was more likely to kill him than his own actions tonight.

It was insane, driving a man with an obvious gunshot wound to a house and not to the hospital. But if the men with the guns were police officers or gangsters, Kiriko had no idea. So he worked hard to keep Black Jack alive, avoiding hard bumps, keeping speed steady regardless of lights, signage, or other traffic. Black Jack felt so frighteningly cold against his back. His grip was steadily growing weaker. How to keep him conscious? He didn't want to shake him around and possibly damage him further. The obvious solution hit him, however. "Weak doctor who gets shot so easily!" he shouted out.

"Hmm?" Black Jack burrowed up through the thick confusion. "What did you say?"

"I said you must be a terrible doctor!" He yelled back again. "To have pissed off your client so much."

Unthinking pride and rage braided inside him. "My work perfect. They just didn't care when the bill arrived." It was true. They had sent him out the door with check in hand, and then somewhere between the door and his car, they had changed their minds. That was when he had received the bullet that was now embedded somewhere in his chest. "You’re one to talk about  _ cost of service _ ."

Kiriko laughed. "At least I have the prescience to secure payment beforehand. And afterwards, there's no chance of reneging." He did his best to mock his passenger in tone.

"My patients can't just pay me with their life insurance policies." Black Jack growled into Kiriko’s back. " _ Because  _ of me, they don't get to cash them in." He held on tighter as they took a curve. The pain in his chest and shoulder throbbed down through his arm. They were somewhere… north? Of the city. Where was Kirko even taking him, he wondered.

"You just make your own problems, I mean." Kiriko said when he felt the arms loosen. "You should just try to be a little cleverer is all. If you thought ahead, maybe honed your skills, you wouldn't have as many people bent on your demise."

Black Jack’s grip tightened again. "Are you implying I do shoddy work?" He tried, and failed, to put more animus into his voice.

Kiriko couldn't make out the sounds distinctly, but it would have to do. He could see the cabin ahead. He was already planning his process. Fire. Tools. Water. "Hang on, Kuroo," he muttered, the wind stealing the words.

_ Finally. _ Kiriko pulled up to the door. Black Jack was definitely in shock by now. He extricated himself from Black Jack’s unthinking grip. Black Jack managed to stand and try to follow Kiriko into the cabin. He slumped against the doorframe. Kiriko was quick in setting up an operating table. He was also very good at starting a fire quickly. "I don't suppose you could help a little?" he snarled back at his guest in the doorway. His own heart was beating too quickly. Had he lost his touch for this kind of emergency?

Black Jack found it too hard to breath to respond. He pressed a hand against his wound again. Pressure was important.  _ Not yet _ , he ordered his body. He had more to do. He at least had to get home. Pinoko would assume he had run off with a lady doctor. He felt the chuckle more than released it. He couldn't have her thinking that. It would be terrible to die and be thought a rat bastard for his trouble.

Kiriko confirmed that the fire wasn’t going to collapse, and turned back to Black Jack. Oh, shit shit shit, when had he collapsed on the floor? Kiriko darted over and pulled him to his feet. "You're going to walk over to that table and hop on, or I'll switch from this treatment to my  _ other  _ services."

Black Jack stood again, and managed to slump to the table. "You'll have to be careful." He breathed heavily, as he pulled his coat free and tugged at the lining. "Here." He clambered up onto the table. That was it. He had no more in him.

Kiriko found that calm perfect center as he quickly went through the process. Black Jack's shirt was ruined with clotted blood, the in-place gauze pack almost indistinguishable from the flesh. Blood... Kiriko had supplies dried, and was able to quickly mix it. He still had Black Jack's blood type memorized. He didn't think he had ever worked this fast. Perhaps all the blood had seeped into his back and granted him some of Black Jack's own skill to aid.

And so he worked to save a life.

Black Jack was comfortably numb, though he could still feel faintly. He knew when steel forceps were invading his body. He watched the fire’s curling flames. Strange shadows were indistinguishable from Kiriko’s silhouette moving over him. Cool, gloved fingers ghosted over his skin, touching his shoulder and chest, up along his throat. A familar soft voice speaking softly in Japanese, little, soft comforting phrases. Black Jack murmured back. That press of cold steel into the burning in his chest--it didn't hurt, per se, but he felt it nonetheless. He stared into the flames, wondering why he couldn't feel the warmth from them. A sharp pain against his cheek pulled him out of fire fascination. Black Jack glanced, up to the sharply angled scowl over a surgical mask above him.

Kiriko worked quickly, but Black Jack seemed damned determined to hover on the brink for some stupid reason. He had strained himself after being shot, obviously. Kiriko bit back the tide of over-sentimentality. At last, though, he at last clipped the thread at the final stitch and pulled back. It was late: the very last of the sunlight had turned orange in the west. "Rest, now. I'm going to get cleaned up from your mess.” He checked the IV drip before pulling away all the implements of the improvised surgery. It had been perfect. The bullet was whole and easy to remove. The bulk of Black Jack’s trauma had been blood loss and shock. As Black Jack let his red-brown eyes close, Kiriko murmured, “I'll see you in the morning, Kuroo." He covered Black Jack in a large woolly blanket. Without quite thinking about it, he leaned down and kissed Black Jack's forehead, letting his dry lips stay placed for several seconds before disengaging. He headed to his minimal bathroom and stripped out of his blood-soaked clothes.

Black Jack floated for a while. The kiss to his forehead, and the long-forgotten name, relaxed him more than the blanket. The faint sound of water and persistent feeling of pain kept him from drifting further into slumber. Water, perhaps surf? He shivered, the motion causing a twinge at the site of injury. He reached up with his good arm and pulled the blanket up over himself. The momentary lapse in the cold was welcome. He drifted in sleep for a moment or so, finally drifting closer and closer to warmth. He reached toward it, warming his fingers that had an icy numbness.

Kiriko let the water of his shower hit him. It was a pathetic trickle, almost no water pressure to speak of. But he didn’t care about that. The only thing he felt was the warmth of the joy that had been absent. It was a good feeling, to heal. He wouldn't be so foolish as to let himself grow used to it. But as long as there wasn't an infection, Black Jack would be fine. He'd lost a lot of blood, and torn extra tissue in his getaway, but nothing crucial had been hit that a crusty old field medic such as himself couldn't fix. He was still toweling his hair when he returned to the only other room in the cabin. ”Are you sleeping well, Black Jack?"

Black Jack stirred, haphazardly reaching past him, toward the bright spot past him. He reached for warmth, and the other doctor's hand caught his own. Caught  _ him _ . His hand was warm and had a kindness in it's gentle touch. He was light headed, still. His arm sagged into the touch.

"Come on, wake up,” muttered Kiriko. “There wasn't much anesthesia to speak of. Now you're just being pathetic." There was no malice to his voice. It was gentle prodding. His bandages would hold, but he was still careful in toting Black Jack to the small sofa in front of the fire.

Black Jack leaned in to rest his head against the other man's shoulder. The soft touches to his hair and face relaxed him and he watched the flames in front of him rise high in the fireplace and then lower. "How much blood?” he finally managed. “I feel as though I am freezing."

"I'd say around one point five litres. It was a little dire. You'll want to drink as much as you can once you're not about to slip back into shock. And a plasma transfer tomorrow wouldn’t be amiss." Kiriko wondered what strange cuddly beast this was in his arms, but wasn't going to question that too hard.

Black Jack looked down. The blanket had been tucked around him. When? He could feel the fog of anaesthetic lifting but the one of fever remained. The other's arms were wrapped around him in a gentle but restaining embrace, fingers occasionally carding through his hair in the back.

"Eh, whatever. Looks like I'm stuck with you. It's late anyway. I'm taking a nap. You need anything, just elbow me. Take your own chance to heal." His own eye closed, and he breathed out softly.

Kiriko decided to enjoy this silly approximation of what lovers did. How fitting that it was only for them when one of them was very much about to die. Kiriko tried not to think too terribly hard on it, but the thoughts plagued him anyway. Love was not meant for men like him and Black Jack. This thing that existed between them over the course of their history wasn’t and couldn’t be love. He didn't know if Black Jack was homosexual, bisexual, or just occasionally needed to release some tension with an equal. But this wasn't a thing that he even thought Black Jack desired. No, their relationship was only a matter of necessity and unavoidable accident--and it included hate and rivalry and interference… and  _ this _ .

As he fell into sleep, he felt Black Jack wriggling toward the fire. Kiriko ignored him. Let the damn fool roast if he wanted!

***

Black Jack groaned. Oh... god. Oh god, his head. He raised the offending body part slowly, spitting out… fur? Fur from... he'd been clenching his teeth in...? He tried resting on his elbows. Which was a bad, bad idea. He settled for looking around with his chin on the ground, the fur tickling the underside of his nose. Ah, it was the fur of the bearskin rug in the whereever this was. He rolled slowly onto his back, and looked around. The smell of food seemed to be coming from somewhere in this place. Someone probably knew he was here. The tug over his chest told him he’d been bandaged. His shirt was nowhere in sight.  _ Please don't let it be a woman _ . Pinoko would kill him.

"Shit shit!" came cussing from the corner of the room. Kiriko was cooking bacon on the small stove. Grease popped out onto his arm. Then he whispered "shit!' once more for good measure. He peered over to look into the main area of the cabin. Seems he’d woken his guest after all. "Shit." He grabbed a hot mug and filled it with coffee from the percolator. Trotting quickly to Black Jack's location, he knelt. "O-ha-yo, Dr. Black Jack. Shall I drop you in the pan with the rest of the bacon?" He offered the mug.

Normally the sight of this one standing over him would not make for a necessarily good morning. But the steaming cup he held was a peace offering if there was ever one. Also he wasn't a female that he would have to explain away when he got home. He sat up, and graciously took the cup, with a soft " _ bitte _ " that cracked a smile on the other's face.

Kiriko stood back up and nodded his approval. He returned to the food he had been cooking--meat, an egg, and some dry toast, made from already the driest bread that had ever existed. He brought a camp plate full over to Black Jack. He took his own plate and sat on the couch, in the middle, staring at him. "Took an act of God to keep you out of the fire," he finally said around the crunch of bread.

Black Jack looked up, covering his mouth as he chewed as food item that they shared a gentleman’s silent agreement to call toast. He swallowed, and looked toward the fireplace. There was an improvised suit case barricade between where he had awoken on the rug, and the fireplace. He turned back to Kiriko. "I apologise for any trouble I may have caused."

Kiriko couldn't stop the laugh at this. "Oh, not at all," he said facetiously. "Only terrified an entire diner, bled on absolutely everything, make me worry that I'd be pursued by gunmen, and then used up all of my medical supplies. No trouble at all." Kiriko chuffed down a bacon slice. After swallowing, he looked up at the exposed rafters thoughtfully. He could hear Black Jack slowly chewing. After a minute, he said, "I will be charging you substantially for my services, of course."

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Going through some trying times in the personal life, and it makes me want to take care of things. And people. Quick and unbetaed, as usual.


End file.
